


Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

by Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Carlos is a cutie, Depression, Grace is graceful, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Judd works behind the scenes, M/M, Marjan is a badass, Mateo has untapped potential, Owen is doing his best, Paul is great at his craft, Suicidal Thoughts, TK has a chip on his shoulder, TK is judgemental and negative, but he grows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: T.K. is a principal at the New York City Ballet. After he gets injured, he becomes addicted to opioids. He just needed something to take the edge off. The pills don’t only take away the physical pain, but they take away all the worry he has too. Then, when his boyfriend, Alex, breaks up with him, he not-so-accidentally overdoses, and his dad decides that it’s time for a change and that change means going to build up a new ballet company in Austin, Texas. He knows that it’s going to be a disaster when he sees the ragtag group that Owen has chosen to be part of the Lone Star Ballet Company, but if he wants to dance ballet, he’s going to have to make it work.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand, the 126 as a family
Comments: 17
Kudos: 29





	1. Welcome to Texas

T.K. didn’t want to be in Austin. At all. He couldn’t think of anything that he liked here. It all felt so wrong, and he vowed that he would never call this place home. There was too much open space, and it made him feel claustrophobic like all the open space was collapsing on him. He felt itchy and out of touch. The pace in Austin seemed infinitely slower than in New York. People took their time, and while they were city people still, Austin, a strange blend of urban with rural charm, was still Texas. It wasn’t glamorous or glitzy. It was cowboy chic, at best, which left a sour taste in T.K.’s mouth. He didn’t belong here. His fall from grace from a principal at New York City Ballet to a member of a hole in the wall Texas dance company hurt like hell.

Ballet Austin was just down the road, and oh, how he wished he could go there instead, where they actually had a real company. Lone Star Ballet Company didn’t even have a full cast of dancers yet. T.K. would be surprised if the company survived through the season, but this was his dad’s new project, and after the overdose, Owen hadn’t given T.K. much of a choice in the matter. It was either quit ballet and go to rehab or dance for LSBC while attending therapy twice a week. Quitting ballet wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t. T.K. hadn’t spent six, sometimes seven, days a week in ballet class just to give up. Ballet was the only thing that mattered, and it was T.K.’s higher power. Without ballet, he’d have given up on living a long time ago. So, he’d packed up and moved to Texas and couldn’t help but be a little bitter about it. He tried to remind himself that at least he’d still get to dance, but with how things were turning out, he wondered if he’d even get to do that.

“An old firehouse? Are you kidding?” T.K. asked when Owen rolled up to their new location with a toothy grin on his face. T.K. didn’t return the grin. “Please tell me this is a joke.” T.K. slammed the car door behind him, already feeling like the hot Texas sun was burning his pale skin.

“Come on,” Owen said. “Wait until you see the inside.” T.K. didn’t want to see the horrors that the inside would bring. Maybe there was a stray fireman hanging around. T.K. could use a good lay. Any half-decent man would do.

As they walked into the building. The first thing that caught his eye was an old fire pole. “Am I going to have to become a pole dancer?” T.K. asked sarcastically. “Because that does not seem like an experience for a father and son to be sharing.”

“We’re not keeping the pole, but don’t be a snob, T.K. Pole dancing is a very demanding activity.” Owen’s voice held no hint of humor.

“Yeah, I’ve seen the videos, but it’s not ballet.” He wasn’t saying that other forms of dance weren’t hard, but to T.K., ballet had always been on a level all of its own.

Owen smiled. He was always smiling lately, and T.K. wasn’t sure what there was to smile about. Their lives were ruined all because T.K. had cracked up under the pressure. “Nothing is to you.” Owen looked around the building, crinkles forming next to his eyes. “It’s charming isn’t it?” That must have been the nice way of saying a shitty hole in the wall. “It’s got good bones, at least.”

It had lots of space, T.K. would give it that, but it was rundown with concrete floors and crumbling walls. It would need a lot of repairs to even be halfway decent. “I’m not dancing on concrete.”

“The floors will be sprung, son, and the place will be spruced up. When we get renovations done, it’ll be great.” There was only so much optimism T.K. could take with all the anxiety that he was feeling.

“Do you even have the budget for renovations?” What crazy person was going to put money into this equally crazy project?

“This is an old, rich woman’s pet project. She always dreamed of being a ballerina, and owning a company is the best she can do. Funding isn’t what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about? Because it seems to me that you’re not at all concerned about what this is going to do to our careers.” T.K. wasn’t the only one who had made an extreme career choice. Owen had left his own career as a ballet master at NYCB to be here, which was unfathomable to T.K.

“This will be good. You’ll see. I just hope that I’m here to see this place grow.” T.K. didn’t like the way that that sounded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Owen backtracked. “It’s not easy starting a dance company is all I’m saying. It could fail.” T.K. still thought that there was something more to Owen’s words, but he had other things to worry about, so for the time being, he was going to drop it.

“Which is why we shouldn’t have come here. It’s going to fail.”

“Come on, son, it’s the chance to create something great together. There’s nothing better than that.”

“I’m only doing this because I want to dance, and you took me away from an actual ballet company for this abandoned firehouse in freaking Texas.”

“I know you hate it here, but there’s more to life than ballet, son. Maybe here we can find a balance. In New York, life was always going to be just about ballet for you.”

T.K. rolled his eyes. “Like you aren’t just as obsessed.”

“I won’t deny that I love it. It’ll always be my first love, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that some things are more important. When you give your whole life to something, it can be hard to tell where that thing begins and you end. It’s easy to get lost and forget all the things you love most about that thing.”

“You think I’ve stopped loving ballet?” T.K.’s couldn’t help the harshness in his voice.

“Have you?”

“You know ballet is my whole world. I’ll never love anything more than I love ballet.”

“Is that going to make you happy? Because it seems to me that you’re closing yourself off from a lot of happiness with that mentality.”

“I was happier in New York.”

“You were dying.” T.K. was surviving. That’s what he was doing. It had been hard, but nothing in life that was worth doing was easy.

“Don’t be dramatic. I wasn’t dying.” Other than that suicide attempt, T.K. hadn’t even been close to death. That had just been a mistake. A heat of the moment thing. Mostly, T.K. considered himself to be fine.

“I could see you deteriorating, and it was only a matter of time before I lost you, and I couldn’t let that happen.” T.K. hated how long it had taken Owen to start trying for father of the year, and now that he had started, it was getting old damn fast.

“I was fine then, and I’m trying to be fine now, even though I feel like this is all a big mistake.”

“Will you give this a chance?” He didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Giving this a chance was the only thing keeping his career alive. If his career died, T.K. wouldn’t survive.

T.K. sighed but relented. “Where do we even start?”

“I have some great candidates we can look over.” He held up a stack of files and T.K. stifled a groan. He knew that this was going to be a long endeavor, and it was pushing him far out of his comfort zone.

As he helped his dad handpick the members of the new company, T.K. was beginning to doubt they’d ever even get a show on stage. They were having some trouble finding good talent. Owen didn’t even hold auditions, and in all his years in ballet, T.K. never saw anything like it, but Owen claimed that he needed to think outside of the box if he wanted the company to be something special. T.K. was sick of thinking outside of the box.

“I think she’s exactly what we need,” Owen said, waving the file folder in his hand and giving it to T.K. to look over. He sounded so sure, but this whole situation had T.K.’s stomach twisting in knots. He’d decided that his career was basically over. He’d blown it, and he’d be stuck in this good for nothing company until his body gave out. He’d end up teaching at a dolly dinkle studio where no one cared about things like sickled feet. He’d have to work with kids who cared more about wearing caked on makeup and glittery costumes than artistry.

T.K. looked the information over, and he could feel his blood pressure rising as he saw who his dad wanted to recruit. This had to be a prank, and after all the shocks he’d already had, he wasn’t in the mood for pranks. “Dad, she hasn’t danced ballet in _years._ ” They’ll be putting on their show in a barn by the way things are going. He really missed Lincoln Center. Maybe if he tapped his heels together three times and said “there’s no place like home” he’d be able to go back home and get out of this whacky land where nothing made any sense.

“Not formally, but she has a huge YouTube following. and I’ve seen her work. She’s good.”

“You’re out of your mind! You’re not just offering her a spot in the company. You’re letting her be a _principal._ There’s millions of ballerinas you could choose from, and you’re choosing one who hasn’t formally danced in three years. _To be a principal._ ” He was being filmed for some TV show. He’d laugh about this later. His dad would tell him it was all just a joke and bring him back to New York where he belonged.

Owen gave T.K. a sincere look. “Have a little faith in your old man. I’ve been in the ballet world a lot longer than you have.” He’d been in it so long that he was evidently losing his mind.

“Whatever.” T.K. groaned. He couldn’t argue that his father had the expertise here, but he still thought that his dad was out of his mind. “Who else do you have in mind?”

“You’re not going to like this one.”

“I didn’t like the last one!” T.K. rubbed his temple, already feeling a hammering in his head.

“You’re really not going to like this one then,” Owen hedged.

“What’s that mean?”

“He’s a hip-hop dancer.”

“He’s a _what_?” T.K.’s brain couldn’t begin to process those words.

Owen pulled up a video of the kid’s dancing. His name was Mateo Chavez, and T.K. was sure that he was good at hip hop, but hip-hop was not ballet.

“Dad, no. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Get him in a ballet class, and he’ll be great. Look at those arches, and he’s got great turnout.”

“This is crazy. Ballet takes _years_ of training to master. You can’t just throw him in a class and expect him to be ready.” They were going to be the most embarrassing ballet company in the world. “Oh my god. People are going to laugh at us.”

“Don’t get so worked up. He already knows how to move. You can help him be his best.”

“Do you want to make him a principal too?” T.K. bit out.

“We need people to fill out the corps.”

“That’s almost worst. Nothing ruins the allure of ballet like a shitty corps.” The corps had to be in-synch. Principals and soloists often got all the praise, but a well-developed corps was what made a company stand out.

“I should just give up and start teaching at Miss Julie’s Dance Emporium down the street, shouldn’t I? Because that’s the only place my career has left to go.”

“You’re being dramatic. I’ve found several candidates who actually do have ballet experience if it makes you feel better. Most of them are very qualified. They just need someone to take a chance on them.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

“Grace Ryder used to dance at Houston Ballet. Colleen Parkland was in the corps of PNB. Iris Blake and Dustin Shepard both danced at Ballet Austin. I’ve also got Paul Strickland from the Joffrey Ballet onboard as our choreographer in residence.”

“This is going to be a disaster. A few professionals among amateurs isn’t going to work.”

“Lighten up. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure it will.”

Owen slung an arm over T.K.’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t let you down.” Yet, he had done just that a million times before, so T.K. didn't have a lot of faith.


	2. Meet the Dancers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T.K. meets some of the other dancer. He also meets Carlos.

The one thing that T.K. had been looking forward to in the whole mess was finally getting into class and starting rehearsals. He’d tried to keep in shape as best as he could, but it was harder when he didn’t have formal classes and rehearsals to keep him active. He hoped that he wouldn’t be a complete disaster in class. He’d be sore, but it was the kind of pain that felt good. His dreams of getting back to the barre were short-lived when his dad came into the studio at the last moment and told them that they weren’t having class after all. There were a bunch of people in the room who didn’t look like dancers. They were probably support staff, and yeah, they were vital to any company, but T.K. didn’t see why they were here when he was supposed to be having company class.

“What am I doing here then?” T.K. asked with his arms crossed over his chest. Speaking to the artistic director in that tone wasn’t something that T.K. would have dared to do back home, but here, all rules ceased to exist in this strange world where ballet dancers didn’t need to know ballet, and talking back to superiors wasn’t a grave offense.

“Simmer down, T.K.,” Owen said, using his dad voice more than his artistic director voice. “I thought it would be nice if we took some time to get to know each other. So, sit down, relax, and let’s all get acquainted.”

The process of getting acquainted was just as painful as T.K. feared. He didn’t need to _know_ these people. He just needed them to get their acts together and learn to dance well. Owen started off the introductions. “From when I talked to you all, you probably know that I’ll be your artistic director. I spent most of my career at the New York City Ballet, first as a dancer and then as a ballet master. I decided that I needed a change. To build something from scratch, so with the help of our executive director, Alden Radford, the board, and our generous benefactor, Maryam Rodgers, I’ve been able to hand-select all of you and start making this company into one of the best in the country.” They’d be lucky if it wasn’t the worst in the country, T.K. thought.

“I’ll still be handling some company classes and rehearsals as we develop and grow as a company, but Beth Healy will serve as our ballet master. Beth was a principal with Boston Ballet for a decade, and we’re lucky to have her talents here in Austin. Beth? Do you want to share a few words?”

She smiled and nodded, “I’ll make you work hard. I won’t put up with any bullshit, but I’ll support you in whatever ways I can because I believe in Owen’s vision, and I want you all to be proud of what we’ve made here.” T.K. could’ve sworn she looked at him specifically during that last part.

“Thank you, Beth.” Owen pointed to a man beside him. “Next up is our choreographer in residence, Paul Strickland. He’s choreographed some breathtaking pieces such as _Chicago Spring_ and _Transformation in G_ , but I’m sure that he can tell you all this better than I can. Paul feel free to say a few words about yourself.” T.K. wasn’t sure what to make of Paul.

Paul gave a small wave, and he seemed friendly enough, but he wasn’t friendly enough to convince T.K. to stop scowling. “I’m excited to work with you all and set some new pieces on you. I’ve never been with such a new company before, but I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

“Thank you, Paul,” Owen said, moving swiftly on with introductions. “Before I introduce all our dancers, I want to give some callouts to our staff members. Michelle Blake will be our Music director. We’ll also have Nancy Gillian and Tim Rosewater as accompanists. Judd Ryder will be our technical director and will make sure our shows come to life.” Judd Ryder looked like the type of guy T.K. wouldn’t want to talk to. A classic Texas dude. He wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, at least. Owen went on to list several other staff members that T.K. didn’t pay attention to. This was all so stupid. They could be doing something productive rather than learning a bunch of names that they’ll all forget in an hour.

Owen went through all the dancers then, starting with T.K. “T.K.’s my son,” he said “but don’t let that fool you. He’s a much better dancer than I’ve ever been,” and then he let him introduce himself. T.K. kept it short, not wanting to participate in this stupid get to know each other activity. The only way it could get worse was if Owen made them tell a fun fact about themselves or one of those other ice breakers that T.K. had always hated.

T.K. tried to listen as his dad gave introductions, but the more introductions there were, the more of a disaster this ballet company seemed to be. Marjan didn’t seem to like authority, which was going to be a nightmare when they started working. If she couldn’t listen to instruction, she wasn’t going to do well in the ballet world. Mateo was a little shy, but he was out of place in a room full of (more or less) ballet dancers, and that much was clear by the way he shifted his body uncomfortably whenever ballet terms were used. Grace Ryder was married to the tech guy, and if T.K. had to pick one person from the group who he actually thought would make a perfect ballet dancer, it was her. She seemed steadfast, graceful, and respectful.

Iris Blake and Colleen Parkland both seemed like sweet people. Dustin Shepard had major asshole vibes, but he looked like a strong addition to the lineup of males, so T.K. could put up with a little ego in that case. Bree and Zach seemed nice enough, but they didn’t stand out, which was what you wanted for a member of the corps. The list of dancers got bigger, and frankly, T.K. couldn’t remember all their names, but he got to know everyone enough that his mood was soured. This was not going to work. He’d told his dad this a million times, and the more he saw this company come together, the surer he felt that this would fail. _Failure, failure, failure._ That was his mantra, and it was toxic and nasty, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He had to give his dad credit for one thing. The studios looked great, and Owen had spared no expense on the old firehouse. Maybe the whole ballet dancing part would crash and burn, but the building itself made the company look like one of the best in the United States.

When all the introductions had been made, Owen dismissed the group, telling them that they could have the rest of the day off. As if they didn’t need to be practicing every hour possible just to be decent come showtime. T.K. wondered if maybe his dad wasn’t cut out to be an artistic director. Maybe he should’ve stuck to being a ballet master at one of the most prestigious companies in the United States because as things stood, Owen was quickly on his way to irrelevance.

Owen didn’t share T.K.’s skepticism. “This is going to be great,” he said when the room had cleared.

“Yeah, great,” T.K. tried to say as candidly as he could, but it came off sarcastic despite his best efforts to act like a halfway decent son.

He’d decided that he wasn’t leaving just yet. “I’m going to stick around and get some practicing in,” he told his dad. He needed the work. I had been weeks since he’d done more than just basic dancing, which meant that when they finally did have class, it was going to be a disaster. Maybe it was better that they had forgone class today. T.K. probably would have embarrassed himself.

“Don’t overdo it. You know how you get when you overdo it.” Of course, his dad would be the one ballet teacher in the world who didn’t appreciate T.K.’s work ethic. It wasn’t like T.K. was going to do anything crazy, he was just going over some basic combinations so he could stay in shape.

“I won’t.” Overdoing wasn’t in T.K.’s vocabulary. He didn’t think that you could work too hard.

“Do you want me to hang around and give you some pointers?” T.K. should have said yes. It always helped to have someone else hanging around to tell him what he was doing wrong, especially with how long it had been since he’d had a formal class, but Owen wasn’t his favorite instructors. His dad was too nice about corrections for T.K.’s taste. He’d sandwich constructive criticism with compliments, and T.K. didn’t need that kind of coddling at that moment. T.K. had learned the most from ballet teachers who were bullies.

“Not if you’re going to use positive reinforcement.” He’d been a special type of difficult ever since they’d arrived in Austin. He should feel bad, but his whole life had been thrown off course. He couldn’t help but moping a little bit.

“You never complained back in New York.” When you were in the New York City Ballet, complaining and bratty behavior wasn’t an option. No one wanted to work with a difficult dancer, but now that Owen was in charge of a ballet existent ballet company, T.K. could get away with a lot more.

“It was different there.” For one thing, he took Owen seriously there. New York had been an entirely different life, and Owen had been a respected member of the ballet community. Now, he was on the fringe.

“I’m not going to tell you what you’re doing wrong and not what you do right. Just like I didn’t do that at home.”

“Then, you can go. I can handle myself.”

“Don’t overwork your ankle,” Owen reminded T.K.

“I’m a big boy,” T.K. reminded Owen.

“We’re going out tonight, so be back by the evening.” T.K. just shrugged. He had better things to worry about than stupid social functions his dad was going to drag him too.

He ended up staying in the studio for five hours, and by the time he got home, his ankle was throbbing. He was out of practice and he needed to work back up to being able to endure the pain because the pain didn’t look like it was ever going away.

“You were gone for five hours,” Owen said, arms crossed. He was buttoning up his shirt, straightening up his hair. “Hurry up and get ready so we can go.”

Oh right. He forgot about that. “Where?”

“We’re meeting some of the other dancers at a honkytonk.” That sounded like a nightmare. He didn’t want to be social with those people. Work should stay at work.

“A what?”

“It’s like a bar with line dancing.”

“ _Line dancing_?” His ballet dreams were _not_ coming true here in Texas, so maybe they could start a line dancing company. People in Texas might actually like that, and any old idiot could line dance. Maybe not well, but doing it well wasn’t the spirit of line dancing, anyway. Not that T.K. knew anything about line dancing, and he didn’t care to learn anything going forward either.

“It will be fun. Get dressed.” T.K. rolled his eyes, but he complied because his father would nag him until he did or worry about him if he didn’t.

The honkytonk was disturbingly _Texas._ Like the stereotypical place that you’d expect from Texas. It felt out of place in Austin, which almost didn’t feel like Texas at all with how offbeat it was it. Places like this reminded T.K. that he still was in Texas. As he watched people line dancing, T.K. wanted a drink, but he settled for mineral water instead, and even the mineral water here tasted weird, not cold enough with _too many_ minerals.

“Do you think this was a mistake?” T.K. asked, and he wished that he could feel better about his situation, but he’d gone from being on top of the world to feeling like a tiny fish in a tiny pond. He’d spent his whole life working for this one thing, and the thought that he might lose it was paralyzing because there was no way he was going to keep drinking this shitty Texas mineral water if he couldn’t even dance his troubles away.

Owen slung an arm over T.K.’s shoulder and squeezed him. “We’re going to be just okay.”

“What are we going to do if the company doesn’t make it through the season? We can’t go back from this and return to normal. You do know that decisions are permanent, don’t you? You’re old so this won’t ruin your whole life, but if I mess up, there’s no getting my career back.”

“It’ll be fine. If it’s not, we’ll figure it out if it comes to that, but let’s just enjoy the time we have right now.” That was not reassuring. T.K. fell silent, forcing mineral water down his throat, pretending that it was something stronger. He hated it here, where everything is off-kilter and feels like a bizarre dream.

T.K. watched as his dad got pulled away by the accompanist, Michelle with faint amusement. Even in Texas, Owen was still a charmer. His dad was fooling around, not taking the dancing too seriously, but even at his age, Owen was still great at moving. T.K. didn’t get line dancing because it’s so different from ballet that it makes him uncomfortable. He’s done other styles of dance before, plenty of them, but social dancing is strange to him.

Before he could think too much about how uncomfortable line dancing made him feel, T.K. felt a tap on his shoulder, and he pivoted to see a tall, handsome man. T.K. couldn’t tell if he was arrogant or timid by the small smile on his face. He figured he was probably arrogant because otherwise, this was too good to be true. Butterflies stirred in his stomach as deep eyes stared into his green ones. Maybe he was just one of those straight, awkward guys who only wanted to make friends. That would be a bummer, and it would be a waste of a perfectly hot man.

“Do you want to dance?” T.K. thought for a moment. Did he really want to dance with someone in this stupid honkytonk? _He does have good posture_ , which was inexplicably hot to T.K. _I’d like to see that body move._ Maybe dancing would do him some good, even if it was just line dancing. If he was lucky, they could do more than dance. It had been a while since T.K. had been interested in anyone.

T.K. nodded, letting himself have some tentative happiness. Maybe Austin didn’t have to be all torture. “I’d like that. I’m T.K. by the way.”

The man nodded. “I know, Michelle told me. He pointed to where Owen and Michelle were dancing. “I’m Carlos by the way.” He led T.K. to the dance floor through the crowd of people.

“You know Michelle?”

Carlos nodded. “We’re friends.” It must be nice to have friends. T.K. can’t remember the last time he had real friends who weren’t just acquaintances who got the title of friends just because T.K. didn’t have anyone else to give that label to.

“I’m not so good at this dancing thing,” T.K. said as he tried to dance along to the music, which was a lie. Maybe this kind of dancing wasn’t his thing, but in any case, T.K. knew how to move.

Carlos gave him a once over. “If that’s the case, I don’t think I could handle you if you were good.”

T.K. winked. “I’ve been told I’m hard to handle before.”

Carlos took T.K.’s hand and pulled him closer, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll be you have, tiger.” The heat in Carlos’ eyes made T.K. desperate for more. If all men in Austin were like this, T.K. could sleep his angst away.

“I’ll bet you’ve heard that a couple of times yourself.” T.K. ran a finger down Carlos’ chest. It was firm and muscled. “You have very good posture.”

Carlos chuckled. “That’s not the compliment that most men give me.” Most men didn’t know that good posture increased sexiness by at least ten percent in T.K.’s book.

“I’m not most men.” Thankfully not.

“I can see that.” Carlos’ dancing was smooth. Even though he wasn’t taking it too seriously, his lines were neat and controlled. His steps looked practiced and sure. They were dancing chest to chest now, and T.K. could feel the heat between them. All the bodies on the dance floor kept the honkytonk toasty, but Carlos was extra toasty. “You go dancing a lot?”

Carlos shrugged, a smirk appearing on his face. “I would hope so. I do it for a living,” and man, that was hot. All T.K. could think was _I think I’m in love._ He always did fall fast, so fast that it scared him.

“You’re a dancer?”

“Ballroom mostly. Some modern by necessity.”

“You compete?” T.K. had never been a fan of ballet competitions, but competing seemed to be a big part of ballroom dancing.

“Not too much anymore. I’m in a company now— Austin Mod. We blend traditional social dancing styles with modern dancing. There’s not a lot of companies like us out there.”

“You’re keeping Austin weird, I guess,” T.K. mused. “You’ll have to show me what you do some time.”

Carlos looked pleased with that response “I’d be glad to.” What were the odds that the hottest man at the honkytonk would be a professional dancer? T.K. had a type, and that type had followed him to Austin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this installment of this story. I'm really looking forward to all the things that are to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Catch me at lonestarbabe on Tumblr.


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